Bright Eyes
by CowMow
Summary: "You loved his eyes. They changed colour everytime. The only way you will ever be able to see them now would be in the darkest corners of your mind. Hidden away, so very deep." Post-RBF song-fic; lyrics from Art Garfunkel's Bright Eyes. Sad OneShot.


**This story features the song _Bright Eyes_ by the wonderful Art Garfunkel.**

Panting, you shoot up straight in your bed, your eyes darting around the dark room, seeing nothing. Something moist dripples down from your cheek onto the rumpled sheets, but you don't even notice. Your chest heaves from trying to keep the sobs and cries back, but it's making a poor job out of it.

**_Is it a kind of dream,_**  
**_Floating out on the tide,_**  
**_Following the river of death downstream?_**  
**_Oh, is it a dream?_**

You grimace grimly, facing the dark. If only it was a dream. If only…Well, tonight it was a dream, but three months ago it was truth and reality. It's the only dream you've been dreaming for all this time. It's floating everywhere and you can't stop it from going down to the sea; the pool of uncontrolable emotions.

**_There's a fog along the horizon,  
A strange glow in the sky_**

You should have seen the signs. You should have known what being called a fraud would have done to your friend. But, you didn't.

_"I don't care what people think."_

It had become a mantra; something he said over and over again, and you knew it was just a mask. The only one he was trying to fool was himself.

The sign were there but somehow you never expected what could happen. What would happen.

What should happen.

**_And nobody seems to know where you go._**

Where should you go to? The haunting images would never leave you alone where you may try to hide. No-one who even cares where you go.

**_And what does it mean?  
Oh, is it a dream?_**

No, it was no dream. It was real; it was all for real and nothing you did to stop him. You even made a poor job out of telling him you believed in him no matter what. What it means is that there is something that you wanted to tell, but you never said it. And you will never be able to say it now. You had your chance, and you blew it.

"_You're worried they're right."  
_"_What?"  
__"You're worried they're right about me"  
_"_No."  
_"_You can't even entertain the possibilty they're right. You're worried you've been taken in as well."  
_"_No, I'm not."  
__"Moriarty is playing with your mind too. Can you SEE what's going on!"  
"No, I know you're for real."  
__"A 100%?"  
_"_Nobody can fake being such an annoying dick all the time."_

You had told him and you know he knew, but it was in the end when it was all too late. You wanted to tell him you wanted to be there for him, but instead of seeing the signs for what they really were he just couldn't accept it. Perhaps he just couldn't understand. Hell, you hardly knew what was going on; this game between the two most brilliant men of your time. But you know it's not really about that, is it?

He couldn't accept your friendship and thought you feared to have been taken in as well.

You close your eyes, and I know that that dreadful image immediately pops up again. His broken body on the pavement, his normally swirly but now bloody coat spread around him, his scarf wrapped around his pale long broken neck. You see it all. But most of all, you see his eyes.

**_Bright eyes,  
Burning like fire.  
Bright eyes._**

His eyes.

**_How can you close and fail?  
How can the light that burned so brightly  
Suddenly burn so pale?  
_**

You loved his eyes. They changed colour everytime. When there was the promise of a case they would turn green. When something made him angry they would turn grey. When you two laughed they were the brightest blue eyes could ever get. When he looked at you they were deep silver with the tiniest brown sparkles strown into them. Those were the eyes you loved the best.

**_Bright eyes._**

The only way you will ever be able to see them now would be in the darkest corners of your mind. Hidden away, so very deep.

**_Is it a kind of shadow,  
Reaching into the night,  
Wandering over the hills unseen,  
Or is it a dream?_**

No, John, you have seen his eyes. You believed him when he was still alive. You have to believe now but it is so hard. He left you alone. Your friendship wasn't enough to make him stop.

_**There's a high wind in the trees,**  
**A cold sound in the air.**  
_

Yes, John. I know. Life will be hard. Life will be unfair, but you can't give up now. Life without your flatemate is cold and it's hard to keep to your feet. Perhaps it's an impossible task yo keep on living while your solid rock has gone.

**_And nobody ever knows when you go,_**  
**_And where do you start,_**  
**_Oh, into the dark._**

Yes, in the dark is not where it ended, but where it starts. It's time to move on. You can't know where you are going to, or where you will ever end, but start. Just make a start.

**_Bright eyes,  
burning like fire.  
Bright eyes,  
how can you close and fail?  
How can the light that burned so brightly  
Suddenly burn so pale?  
Bright eyes_.**

I know you think it's all about _his_ eyes; his broken eyes that stare up to the sky without seeing anything anymore. But you and I both know, John, it's not about _him_ or _his_ eyes. His eyes that made you feel alive and that gave you everything to live for. You and I, John, we both know that this song pops up in your head everytime you look in the mirror and stare in your own eyes.

**_Bright eyes,  
burning like fire.  
_**

It's all about you, John. Perhaps you didn't know, but your eyes sparkled so bright blue when he appeared in your view. When he shot the wall. When you were kidnapped. When you shot the cabbie. You and I, John, we both know that by falling towards his death, the light in his eyes died. By dying, you died as well.

**_Bright eyes,  
how can you close and fail?  
How can the light that burned so brightly  
Suddenly burn so pale?  
Bright eyes_.**

It's about _your_ eyes, John. _Your_ empty eyes, _your_ pale eyes that used to be alive so much.

**_Bright eyes._**

Will they ever be bright again? It's a question neither of us can answer.

But close your eyes now, John. It's dark in the room downstairs. Close your eyes and relax, John.

In the daytime, you can't ignore the signs and the memories; his violin that will never play, his nicotime patches that will never help solving a three-patch problem. His skull that will never be talked too. The fridge that will never smell of decaying heads and fingers. In the daytime, you can't fool yourself.

But during the night, John, all you have to do is think about those happier times, about the shooting at the wall. About the ASBO. Think about that long muscular body, dressed flawlessly in dark suits. Think about his dark unruly hair. Think about the lips that would sometimes be forced in a slight smile only meant for you. Think about his eyes, John.

Memories is all we have in the end.

**_Bright eyes_**, John.

It's all you have left.


End file.
